


love is to know that you are on my side

by LetsPeraltiago



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: A drunk Jake is a surprisingly responsible Jake, Episode: s02e12: Beach House, F/M, Fluff, Pining, Thanks Rosa, pre-dating, six-drink Amy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 22:03:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17353442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetsPeraltiago/pseuds/LetsPeraltiago
Summary: Six-drink Amy wakes up unable to do anything at all. Surprisingly, thanks to Rosa, Jake Peralta steps up like a real pining sucker.





	love is to know that you are on my side

**Author's Note:**

> There are so many ways to say "I love you", without actually saying those three words. On my tumblr @LetsPeraltiago, you can find the prompt list containing 100 ways to say "I love you" and send me a number (+ a more specific request, if you wish to). You request and I write. This one is:
> 
> #85: That doesn't bother me.
> 
> (Not proofread yet, so I'll apologise in advance for typos and other mishaps)
> 
> "Alternative ending" to episode 12 in season 2 'Beach House'.

The moon was bright, reigning over the pitch-black February sky that hovered over the beach house. After Jake talked it out with their captain, thus resolving the tension between the detectives and their boss, the weekend fun had continued with lots of “Real Ray or Fake Ray”, jokes, alcohol and laughs. Hours flew by without anyone noticing, and by the time someone actually bothered to look at the clock again, it was 2 AM. Of course Holt was the first to do so.

“Oh my,” the man looked at his wrist watch, holding an almost empty beer bottle in his other hand. Tonight he’d had more than just his usual one beer, but didn’t mind even though his head felt slightly heavy. The squad had made him feel included and he’d definitely remember this weekend for a long time. “It is already 2 AM. I better head to bed, or I will miss out on my recommended 7 hours of sleep.”

Jake, who was sitting on the couch between Gina and a (still) passed out Amy with the woman’s legs stretched across his lap, had to frown at this. He was definitely too tipsy to deny that he really liked and enjoyed the company of his ‘stick in the mud’-captain. “Nooo, Captain. Don’t ruin the fun. We just got the fun back. Me like the fun,” he whined like a child.

If he hadn’t had 5 beers already and was nursing a 6th, Jake would’ve noticed his superior officers smile as a reaction to his words, but Holt was lucky enough to get away with it this time. “Thank you for tonight, everyone. And for bringing me along for the weekend. I know it did not live up to your expectations right away, but I am glad to see that we have seemed to work it out.”

Everyone smiled widely, raising their drinks and sharing one last ‘Nine nine!’, before the captain headed to his room for the night. The chatter between the remaining detectives (Scully and Hitchcock having passed out in the upstairs living room about an hour ago, when going to grab their late midnight snacks) continued. Suddenly Jake felt something move in his lap, causing him to remember that hours ago he’d casually removed his passed out colleague’s legs from the couch to allow himself to sit. He’d of course been very careful to not wake her and had put her legs back in their spot, though this time resting across his lap. Since then, his hand (the one that wasn’t holding his beer) had casually rested on her knee. Said knee suddenly moved beneath his palm, causing his head to turn to look at Amy’s suddenly uncomfortable facial expression.

“Good morning, sunshine. Hope you slept like hell,” Jake sent the black-haired women a big smile, contradicting his words.

“Shut up, Peralta. I feel like shit,” she groaned as he gently pulled back a leg in order to (gently) kick his thigh, where her leg had previously rested.

“Hey!” The young detective’s exclamation was a merge between playful and hurt, accompanying a frowning face as he managed to grab her attacking foot to keep it still. “I let you rest on me and this is what I get? I am hurt, Santiago. HURT!”

As he spoke, the tired look on Amy’s face suddenly twisted and expressed a whole new level of discomfort - panic even. She tried pulling back her foot, but the immature colleague wasn’t going to let her move. “Jake!” She pulled again and again. “If you don’t let go of me right now, you’ll be having barf resting in your lap!”

Understanding the magnitude of the situation, he immediately let go of the fighting foot and watched his friend stumble off the couch before running off to the bathroom with the speed Raymond Holt post street meat. The sound of talking suddenly drowned, everyone looking after a running Amy before looking at each other and then lastly at Jake.

“What?” His eyebrows rose to enhance the confusion he was feeling from the sudden attention.

“Don’t just sit around, man. Go check up on her!” Rosa nodded in the direction in which Amy had ran, sending him wide eyes that even a slightly drunk Jake Peralta could translate to ‘You obviously still like her so act like it’.

“Oh, um- Of course. I’ll go see if she uh- needs something,” he pushed himself off the couch, suddenly feeling much more sober as he made his way upstairs while the other detectives’ chatter rose again. Immediately upon arriving upstairs, he saw that the bathroom door was left ajar and heard the sound of a heaving Amy.

“Ames?” He carefully pushed open the door only to see her kneeling in front of the toilet with her back facing him. He winced, feeling a mixture of malaise and sympathy, standing still in the door frame, unsure of what to do. That was until another heave rose from the bottom of her gut, immediately causing him to run over to kneel by his friend and hold her hair. Her stupid soft hair, he couldn’t help but notice. “There you go,” he said encouragingly, slowly stroking her back with his other hand. “I know it sucks right now, but you’ll feel better once it’s all out.”

Though she wanted to, Amy didn’t get to say anything before another heave made its presence known. For the next few minutes they both stayed in the same position, the only sound coming from the bathroom being alcohols unfortunate counter-strike. When the sound of heaving suddenly stopped reappearing every 30 seconds or so, Jake carefully got off the floor and filled the glass by the sink with cold water.

“Here,” he sat back down on the cold marble floor, presenting the water to his friend.

She shook her head, squinting her eyes in displeasure. “Can’t swallow anything. It’ll just come back up again.”

“Nonsense. You need water, Amy. Drink.”

Against her will, knowing that he was right, the young woman grabbed the glass and clumsily pushed back her messy hair with her remaining hand. Jake, seeing how her hair bothered her, noticed a hair tie on her wrist and gently removed it. Before she could comprehend it entirely, Amy Santiago was sipping on cold water as Jake Peralta struggled, yet still managed, to pull her hair back into a (very) messy pony-tail.

“Feeling better?” He dropped his hand from her hair, but let one rest on her lower back in support.

“Feeling gross,” she shot back, causing Jake to chuckle at how she somehow managed to have a good comeback even during a crisis. “But I guess also better…” She continued, putting down the now empty glass,

“Good. Lets get you to bed then. It’s just down the hall.”

Another frown and groan told Jake that his friend was all but agreeing with his demands - not that this was any surprise to him. Amy Santiago was and would always be the no to his yes. As simple and as complicated as that. “No, just leave me here. The floor is nice and cold. If I get up, I’ll just die.”

“You’re an idiot, Santiago,” Jake pushed himself off the bathroom floor, placing his hands on his hips in a knowing matter and looking down at the beautiful mess that was his sick partner. “Not only for thinking that a stupid hangover can kill you, but also for thinking that I’ll just leave you here.”

“But I don’t wan-“ her sentence was cut short, when she suddenly felt a pair of arms picking her up bridal style. All other thoughts, feelings and sickness suddenly seemed to clear. Apparently resting tired and limp in Jake Peralta’s arms as he carries you to bed, was a perfect cure against (too much) alcohol. Her head rested against his shoulder, too tired to bother hold it up, whilst his heart beat against her arm. Amy Santiago never thought her stupid, immature partner’s pulsing heart could put her to ease like it apparently did. Though she secretly hoped it could’ve lasted all night (or longer for that matter), she felt herself gently slip out of his arms and onto a soft, cold mattress. Next thing she knew, he’d pulled the covers back over her and was tugging her in like a father would his sick child. Though the mattress was cold, Amy could only notice the heat that was radiating from his body and smell the distant but present remains of his cologne. A smile spread across her pale face.

“Don’t smile just yet,” he smiled back down at her as he pushed back some strands of hair that escaped his embarrassment of a pony-tail. “You’ll be feeling even shittier in the morning.”

“I know,” the smile stayed stuck to her face even considering the awareness of her hungover fate.

“I’ll be right back,” he straightened back up before leaving the room, giving Amy a minute to turn onto her side and look at the empty space beside her. No one was going to lie there with her, but she wished someone would. Not only because 6-drink Amy felt very alone, but also because sober Amy had felt alone lately and she’d now finally realised just who she wanted to make her feel less so. After all the good and (many) bad times they’d been through, Amy had to admit that there really wasn’t anybody else but him who could make her feel less alone.

“I’m back with dessert,” she heard him enter the room and immediately turned back around to face him. “A fresh glass of water and the strongest pain-killer Charles could find. Enjoy.”

Though she mostly wanted to just… not ingest anything at all, she knew that Jake was just trying to take care of her and was actually right. She would definitely appreciate the water and medicine in the morning. So without too much complaining, Amy swallowed both the water and pill before sinking back down into the comfort of the bed.

“Great job. What a champ,” he jokingly praised as he grabbed the empty glass from her and placed it on the bedside table. He looked back at her, still smiling even though he was obviously more than exhausted himself. “I think my deed here is done. I’ve placed a bucket by your bed along with a clean towel.” He pushed himself off the edge of the bed as to stand up and leave.

“Jak-“ her voice was small and didn’t make it through the strong volume of his.

“If you need anything, I’ll be in the bedroom next door,” he started making his way towards to the door, but halted when he noticed her calling out his name.

“Jake.”

He spun around, looking at her with soft eyes expecting a duty. “Yeah?”

“Could you… Would you mind sleeping in here? With me, I mean.”

Though the room was dark, she noticed his eyes widening in surprise. The bad or good kind? She had no idea and it made her want to throw up all over again.

“Uh- Yeah,” he shook his head upon realising how reluctant he sounded. “Of course.”

Seconds later, Amy felt the duvet on his side being lifted and soon after the mattress dipping beneath the weight of his body. A whole new feeling that she hoped wouldn’t be a one-time occurrence. She turned around in the bed, only to see that he’d already positioned himself to face her. They were now face to face, and Jake could see her brown eyes burning in the night. The hair-tie had given up and slipped out of her hair a long time ago, allowing it to fall down her shoulder and cheek like soft waves of pure black gold. For a few moments, neither said anything but simply looked at the other. They were both taking it all in: the unbelievable moment and feelings that came rushing back from their hiding place behind the hopeless pining.

“Is this okay?” He asked carefully, wondering whether or not he was lying too close to her, when he felt her knees accidentally stroke his. 

“Yeah,” she breathed out. “For you?”

“Yeah,” he mirrored her, adding a nod.

“Thank you for doing this. Taking care of me and staying and all… You didn’t have to.”

His lips curled into a small smile, telling her that he was relaxing. “That’s where you’re wrong, Amy Santiago. Good partners always have each other’s backs. Through thick, thin and barf.”

Right there, upon hearing her chuckle at his comment, Jake could’ve died and gone to heaven. He could die a happy man, lying right next to his stupid beautiful partner in crime. A comfortable silence swallowed them, telling Jake that the woman probably wanted to sleep. He (against his will) closed his eyes and tried to ignore his insane heartbeat that kept him awake. After a few moments, he suddenly felt himself coming down from his high, when suddenly the small body beside him scooted closer. Automatically, without even thinking twice, he lifted his arm as to welcome her inside. An implicit acceptance of this, in the form of Amy Santiagos chest pressing up against his and her face was buried in the safety of his neck's crook, let him know that his body had made the right choice. Another silence fell over them as she settled into him and he in the meantime stroked back her hair with his already lifted hand. Her temple was now exposed like he wanted it to be, allowing him to place a comforting kiss to it. It was long, warm and tender, making Amy feel completely whole and safe in the moment. The feeling of his lips eventually vanished only to be replaced by the almost just as comforting feeling of his arms closing around her and his head resting on top of hers like a crown. She gently returned the favour by pecking his neck before settling back down in the crook.

“Sorry if my breath smells like barf…” she mumbled into the sensitive skin, sending shivers of happiness down his spine. She could feel his chest momentarily strike hers, when a chuckle was formed before escaping his lips.

“It doesn’t bother me.”


End file.
